


Cas-Lovefest

by tangerine (arte)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s09e18 Meta Fiction, Episode: s09e21 King of the Damned, Episode: s09e22 Stairway to Heaven, Gen, Humor, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“…. A roll-call?”</p><p>“Yes ,sir.”</p><p>“So, I would have to officially call out their names in order to stop them from seeking it unofficially.”</p><p>“That’s the idea, Commander.”</p><p>If there is anyone who doesn't get this whole Cas-lovefast business, it's Castiel. He doesn't know why angels are acting like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas-Lovefest

**Cas-Lovefest**

A crowd of angels are listening to his every word with rapt attention. It’s disconcerting to say the least, but Cas tries to stay calm and reassuring. He says that he would assist them to the best of his abilities in finding a peaceful way to return back to Heaven. He talks about the abandoned building he found, and how it could be their headquarter of sorts. He finishes off his little speech with the address of the said building, asking them if it is alright to continue any further discussion after they all arrive there.

 

An angel in a red shirt raises his arm inquiringly. Azirael, Cas remembers. “Yes?”

 

“I was wondering, how should we address you?”

 

Cas’ brows furrow. He doesn’t understand why it’s suddenly became a problem. They know who he is, don’t they? “Um, Castiel,” he tries to answer anyway. “That is, my given name.”

 

Azirael frowns disapprovingly. “That is not proper,” he looks around, daring the others to contradict. He need not have bothered, for they are nodding along in agreement. Even more than that, they are giving out suggestions, weighing the nuance and inflection of each title.

 

Cas tries to interrupt, tell them he doesn’t need any title, no, really, and he would be more than happy if he could just work among them as equals. However, he closes his mouth, for a) it doesn’t look like they would listen, and b) he hasn’t seen such a lively discussion among his siblings since.. forever. He doesn’t have the heart to stop them from having this moment.

 

Azirael turns back toward him with a serious face. “Would Commander work for you, sir?” No, Cas balks inwardly. He wishes he could just say that. It wouldn’t be so difficult if they were not looking at him so expectantly. They are all beaming up at him, proud of themselves for coming up with a proper title for their leader.

 

“…yes,” he says helplessly. He doesn’t know what kind of expression he is wearing. He hopes that it can suitably be called as a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

They arrive on their Headquarter. He is ushered toward the office on the top floor. He doesn’t even bother to protest. It is nice to have some space for himself anyway. It seems a bit counterproductive, though, given that angels visit his office so frequently that he permanently gave up on closing his door. Wouldn’t I make more sense for him to have a cubicle on the ground with them for an easy assess?

 

Or not, Cas muses as he watches Hannah climbing up the stairs leading to his office. He might get too swamped with visitors to have anything done.

 

“Yes, Hannah?”

 

“Commander, the new recruits have successfully settled into their job.”

 

That is a good news, except for the fact that the report is totally unnecessary. The new recruits have a small desk job, and he can perfectly see how they are doing from his office. This is not, however, the first time he got redundant reports. Usually, in the Heavenly Host, a designated member of each team would be the only one to make a report or ask for clarification of the order. Now, it seems like every angel is doing it. It could be a positive change, but they come up with so many overlapping reports. He hasn’t pointed this out so far, hoping that angels would come to agreement by themselves, but it doesn’t seem to be working out. It could be indication of communication error. Or something else.

 

“Hannah,” Cas hesitates. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“There have been increasingly frequent verbal reports. I was wondering if it is a subtle way of trying to call me out on something.” Hannah blanches at that. Cas hastens to reassure her. “That’s perfectly fine. I would rather be told that I’m making a mistake than to cause further harm in ignorance.”

 

“No, no, no,” Hannah shakes her head emphatically. “It’s nothing like that!” She looks incredibly flustered. It is a bit alarming. Cas tilts his head in concern. “We just like to… hear you call us by our names.”

 

Her voice gets smaller toward the end, but Cas can hear her perfectly fine. It’s just that he can’t comprehend. Were angels always this confusing? “Pardon?”

 

Hannah bit her lips. “You see, when we make our reports or ask for direction, you always remember to call us by our names.”

 

Cas nods at that. He has been making a conscious effort. He didn’t want to make them feel like a hammer, and he wished they would be more at ease around him. He didn’t know how to achieve that, so it was his feeble attempt at making a change.

 

Hannah looks reluctant to clarity, but she soldiers on. “It made us feel… valued, that you know us. So we may have been a bit… eager to talk to you.”

 

“That’s why you have been taking turns in coming to see me,” Cas speaks out slowly, as utter surreality settles around him. Hannah gives him a sheepish smile.

 

“It’s…” …so absurd, he wants to say but who is he to judge? He knows more than anyone how time on Earth can wear you down, making you isolated and lonely. It’s a good thing if he could give them some measure of comfort, he has much to atone for after all, but still.. “I am, uh, honored that I inspire such feelings, but this cannot continue.” Sensing Hannah’s ill-concealed distress, he tries to soften his tone further. “I’m not saying it was all wrong. I, understand, but maybe, we should try to channel it in a more… conductive way.”

 

To do that, they would have to hold a meeting. He imagines himself addressing this issue, but fails miserably. How do you even put it in words? He is utterly mortified.

 

“Hannah, would you discuss this with others and tell me the result?” he knows that he is delegating for no good reason but he has his limits. Fortunately, Hannah gives him an enthusiastic consent and goes back to her work.

 

After she leaves, he buries his face in his hands. Before he decided to take the role of leadership once again, he has looked back on his time against Raphael and dissected all his errors obsessively. He has worried about so many things, but this… the way the angels follow him… he hasn’t even seen it coming. During the War, sure, the angels figured that his resurrection must mean God’s big disapproval of the Apocalypse and fought beside him. However, most of them had a certain level of detachment to their conduct. Not.. not this. He doesn’t even know how to deal with this, never mind figure out what ‘this’ is.

 

Well, hopefully, Hannah will find a way to resolve this. Cas busies himself with work.

 

* * *

 

 

“…. A roll-call?”

 

“Yes ,sir.”

 

“So, I would have to officially call out their names in order to stop them from seeking it unofficially.”

 

“That’s the idea, Commander.”

 

"....."

 

"......"

 

“….When should I do this roll-call?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The interrogation against Metatron’s agent is an all around failure. Insistence on no violence policy means no torture. The only thing the prisoner wants is his place on Heaven, and that is precisely the one thing that they cannot offer. The only other interrogation tactic they have is Intimidation, which it turns out, doesn’t work that well when there isn’t a real physical damage to back it up with. The Heavenly Host sadly lacks imagination to overcome this situation.

 

It is a time, Cas decides with some level of excitement, for a human perspective.

 

“Commander, how should we proceed with the prisoner?” Azirael asks as he approaches him.

 

“I would have to call my friends for help.”

 

“Your friends?” Azirael intones sharply, but Cas doesn’t pay attention to that as he is busy with searching for his phone. As he pets down his coat, he realizes that he has left it in his office. A way back to his office from the interrogation room feels too far.

 

“Yes, Sam and Dean Winchester,” he answers as he walks in a swift pace. “They would be able to offer some new perspective on our work.” Cas thinks of Sam coaxing out information with his gentle tone. His thought turns darker as it reaches Dean and his Mark, and how he would react to the word 'interrogation', but he shakes himself. No, they would help him. 

 

“In the mean while, I would be looking for other ways to find Metatron’s whereabouts. Can you escort the Winchesters to me when they arrive?” Azirael nods stiffly. Cas makes sure to dismiss him properly. Azirael seems to get upset when Cas tries to be more casual.

 

Finally alone in his office, he dials Dean’s number.

 

“Cas, what’s up?”

 

Dean’s voice greets him. He closes his eyes, and relief washes over him.

 

“Dean.”

 

He can be just Cas again.   

              

    

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember if the name of the red-shirt angel has been mentioned, so I just gave him a random name. Feel free to correct me if so.  
> That said, I couldn't contain myself after seeing 9x22, and this is the result XP My first SPN fic. I'm so excited about the finale episode! Feel free to share your feelings with me X)


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